


Timeless

by heijihatsutori



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heijihatsutori/pseuds/heijihatsutori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a cherry blossom tree at the top of the cliff by the sea. The tree is said to be the largest tree in the town, and the age of the tree might be even older than the town itself, which has been around since more than 200 years ago. The tree has always been the symbol of the town and it is likely to stay that way. It is both admired and feared by the townspeople after all.</p><p>For the tree, since one can remember, never seems to stop blooming its flower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Xiah Junsu & Zhang Li Yin's Timeless](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yQiaJitK6w) while lyrics from [Outsider's Acquantaince](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrvQj2-7SzY) and [Remioromen's Konayuki](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcNwTk1WH0k).

 

 

 _I can't blend in here, there; anywhere_  
I can't belong to you, her, anyone else  
I walk down restlessly around you

_Will the moon understand my loneliness?_

_  
_

*******

 

            There is a cherry blossom tree at the top of the cliff by the sea. The tree is said to be the largest tree in the town, and the age of the tree might be even older than the town itself, which has been around since more than 200 years ago. The area by the cliff is off-limits to people as of today, due to it been the popular place for suicide and the extremely rocky path to reach the top. To see the tree, people usually go down the beach, and if the day is clear and not foggy at the cliff, the tree is visible for the entire world to see; the big, strong trunk, long branches with leaves fluttered by, and the blooming pink flowers whose petals falls down every so often, swept by the wind. The scenery is gorgeous, magnificent even; regardless of from what angle do you see it. The tree has always been the symbol of the town and it is likely to stay that way. It is both admired and feared by the townspeople after all

            For the tree, since one can remember, never seems to stop blooming its flower.

            The oldest man living in the town, who celebrated his 100th birthday, last month, said that the tree has always been regarded as somewhat sacred, even way before he was born. The tree never bloomed on that time, just big trunk and awkward branches stretching out, but then somehow, one day, it starts to bloom and the flowers remains there; even when the nature wither and die on winter, even when draught hit the land, come hell or water high, the tree stays there, remains unchanged pass the century.

            And until today, nobody is able to crack the mystery behind this phenomenon.

            Of course, there are legends and rumors, but to him and most of the townspeople, the one about the ancestors of his family himself is always regarded as believable enough and passed down to the younger generation compare to other legends. Maybe because the person mentioned is indeed exist, maybe because the supernatural does seems to run in the family, and maybe, just maybe, that is the truth, though there is no one that can proof it.

            As of now, that is.

            He stares at the tree from his usual spot every time he is here by the beach, leaning against the abandoned old hut under the now bare shady tree, the sea almost freezes over. Still, the tree blooms, even with the snow covering the top of it, making the scene more so breathtaking with the tree being so out of place, the pink petals, the green leafs, the dark brown trunk, and the white surrounds it all. The cold, strong wind blows his way and some pink petals falls by his feet. There is nobody around save for him, and even he himself has no idea what is he doing there at the first place. Thinking back, it is just that he suddenly has this urge to see the tree when he wakes up this morning. Call it ridiculous, but he has always believe on his intuition, as it has always leads him towards something in the past, so this time is no exception. The fact that it has something to do with the tree perks his interest more.

            So here he is, in a middle of a winter day, staring at the tree, the cold be damn.

 

 

\- [My body feels ok, it's nothing special

                                                                    And yet I feel like I'm drowning]-     

 

 

_"Do you think the tree will last this winter?”_

            _The tree is nothing but dying, with not a single leaf on, all awkward and bare. They are sitting under the said tree, leaning against the big trunk, the cool wind of fall blows softly. The hill on their right is mostly orange red with fall leaves, while the sea on their left is dark, swallowed by the black of the night, they and the tree are only visible due to the moonlight._

_“I don’t know.”_

_At this, the one asking buries his head even further in the knees, the one answering stares to the sky above, and heave out a breath. For a moment there is only silence between the two. And then, the head is no longer buried, facing the other person instead._

_“I don’t understand, why do things have to change? It will be great if everything remains the same, isn’t it?”_

_No answer coming this time around._

 

\- [World suffocates me endlessly

                                                        My heart closed only halfway]-

 

 

            When he opens his eyes, he is at the hospital; the smell of aesthetic in the air and the whiteness of the room give it away. He later learns that the kids in the neighborhood found him lying in the snow by the sea while playing around. Of course, he receives an earful of lecture by the whole family for his recklessness, which he just smiles sheepishly as reply. He remembers going there to look at the tree, and he did remembers that he feels somewhat sleepy after a while being there, so maybe it is his fault after all. He makes a mental note to treat the kids later as thanks.

            By the time he leaves the hospital the snow already melts away, and the footsteps of spring are approaching. Instead of going back home, he goes to see the tree first; something struck him inside about it, though he cannot tell what is it to begin with. The tree is indeed still there, still blooms, and the story of the legend crosses his mind.

            Along with the oldest man of the town, somehow.

            So he turns and walks away; the kids are always lounging around the area too, so it will be like killing two birds with one stone. Luckily, the shop the old man usually tends to are only a walking distance, so the family would not get too mad, maybe, he thinks. After all, they cannot expect him to be grounded after all the stuck up in the hospital, seriously.

            And indeed, he guessed right, from afar he can see the old man on the bench in front of the shop, and the kids fooling around the area. Smiling, he makes his way towards the shop, buying loads of snacks and gives them to the delighted kids; he cannot help but smiles at the scene. Then, he turns, facing the old man who has been watching, and bows slightly as greeting, the man reciprocates by offering the seat beside him on the bench, to which he gratefully accepts.

            “So you’re out of the hospital.”

            He smiles inwardly at that, the news must have travel around.

            “Yes. I got out this afternoon, actually.”

            The man nods thoughtfully.

            “And you’re already walking about; your old man is going to get high blood pressure these days.”

            He chuckles at the remark; the old man is as witty as ever.

            “So, what do you want to ask me?”

            He is sure he cannot hide the surprise on his face, for the man just smiles at him.

            “I don’t live long enough to know nothing on reading faces, you see.”

 

 

\- [I put a lock on that door

                                              Locks rusted away from an ethereal loneliness

                                                                                                                                I turn my key out]-

 

 

_“You’re still watering the tree?”_

            _There is a smile as he sees the person approaching. Pouring all the water in the bottle out, he stands up and brushing the dirt off the clothes, facing the coming person._

_“Yes. I cannot…_

_He shakes his head wildly._

_“…I can’t afford to give up now.”_

_The person nods once, understanding._

_“I’ll proof it, to them, to everybody.”_

_They are staring at the tree; his eyes full with hope._

_“This tree will bloom.”_

_He does not see the indescribable look in the person’s eyes._

_“And nobody will look down on the family again.”_

_The wind is cold, brushes past them softly._

_“Nobody will say we are cursed; again.”_

_The sun shines down upon them, yet they can feel no warmth from the summer heat._

_“You think so too, right?”_

_As always, he never receives an answer._

\- [Alienation from answers, held on my shackles

                                                                                     It suffocates me]-          

 

 

            The thing about been sharp in intuition is that sometimes, it is hard to comprehend the feeling of been right on something, but cannot seem to put a finger on it. And always, that particular feelings itself become somewhat annoying as it never stops bugging him every single minute of the day.

            And when it lasts for a week, he knows this is a serious matter.

            It is the middle of spring now, and ever since the incident last winter, he found himself thinking about the tree every so often, to his own amusement. Still, he does not tell anybody in the family about it; they might kick out a big fuss over it, and that definitely is not a good thing, as based on past experiences, it usually will end up on a bad note, so he will not bother telling this time around.

            Besides, keeping one or two secrets is not against the law as far as he is concern.

            So he goes out to see the tree more often these days -out of anyone’s knowledge of course- and before he knows it he has been stepping closer to the tree now; this time he finds himself in the forest near to the bottom of the cliff of all places. It is quiet here, save for the sound of the leaves rustles by the wind, and there is no visible trail to go up to the tree; it is clear that nobody has really been here after all. But he has been here, and while at that, why not find a way up, he thinks.

            And so he finds it.

            He walks through small bushes and always alert on the surroundings, this is a forest after all, and he cannot be sure on anything. He ensures himself to avoid steep paths, it will be too hard to climb down later, and makes a mental note along the way so as to not get lost. As he walks on and on, he cannot help but be grateful that he does focus during the scout training way back in school before. But then, it was a long time ago, so maybe his intuition plays a larger part this time. And the thought becomes solid not long after in his brain when he actually does manage to reach the top of the cliff, the tree is on his sight now. Heck, it does not even get dark yet.

            Talk about being lucky, or in his case, maybe sharp is the more proper word.

            The tree is more magnificent up close, and large too; the branches reach out to the whole space, making a shelter from the sun, and the roots are spread out, covered by the fallen petals like a blanket. Awed by the scene, he walks closer, and touches the trunk of the tree, as he cannot really quite believing that this is reality, and the tree that is always so far is now within his reach, that he cannot help but feel like crying for some odd reason. Maybe because the family has always been somewhat attached to the tree since the old generations, partially thanks to the legend, but nobody really wants to have anything to do with it somehow, and he might be the only one that has ever really been this close before.

            No, he might be the second one, if the guy in the legend really exists.

            “Jungsu?”

            He broke out of his trance and turns towards the voice, which comes from his right, and there is a person with dark black hair, wearing nothing but black, shock clearly written on the pale face, deep black eyes staring straight at him. And judging from position of the body, it seems like the person comes from the other side of the tree, which faces the ocean. Forget about how it is supposed to be no one up here, the way the person stands, so close to the tree –and is it a branch around the neck and wrists?- sends shiver down his spine. His breathing starts to get harder, and unconsciously he starts to take a few steps backwards, his vision is blurring in front of him. His feet must have breaks a twig, but something also snaps in his head, as he turns and runs.

            It is already dark when he reaches his home, and he must have looked so bad that the family sends him off to bed without the usual interrogation. And they totally ignore the matter when he is down with a high fever, and only wakes up one week later. What they does not know is, he actually wakes up on the third day, and finds himself crying, the image of the person by the tree plagues his mind like glue until he passes out, and soon after petals of flowers starts flying in through the window, spread out above him, as if trying to wipe the tears away. The flowers are gone by the time he wakes up, and somehow nobody in the family really has a conscious memory about them, so nobody tells him anything about it.

            For if someone does tell, maybe he knows; the flowers are the ones send to him from the tree itself, as there is absolutely no possible way for the flowers to reach his room.

            The tree and the room are kilometers apart after all.

 

 

\- [I walk down restlessly around you

                                                                 I walk around because I fear of change]-

 

 

            _The town is always said to be something else, whether it is the location, surrounded by hills and closing in by the sea, or the people itself, which holds the old tradition above themselves, regardless of the situation. Thus, any changes are not openly accepted by the general public there._

_That might actually be the thing he hates the most about the place._

_Ever since he can remember, the family is always sticking out like a sore thumb, and it is not that hard to realize; the way they stop and stare, hushed whispers on their back, occasional glances from the corner end of the eyes; he is too used to them he can hardly feel a thing anymore._

_He does not mind people shutting him, nor that it makes him boil if people insult the family; he is not really one of them now –the parents passed away a couple of years back- yet they still does take care of him for the sake of the blood bond, and it gives him a debt to stay and sticks around. Still, it is the common give and take, and thus he sees no problem with it._

_He is cold, he knows that fully well, and he does not mind one bit. After all, if there is two things that he really cares in this whole wide world is the tree and the person; the tree being the one his late father cares for and trusted him to it, and the person who cares earnestly, for him like no other. He knows there is no replacing them, and he may never afford that to happen._

_No, he absolutely cannot afford that to happen._

 

           

\- [Picking up the phone that never rings

                                                                      I wait for your call all night]-

 

 

            Summer means hot and scorching sun, and he, being the calculative person he is, will go to the extreme lengths just to ensure that he will not go out in this weather, no matter what the reason may be. And he proves himself just that by accepting the offer to clean the warehouse of the family in exchange to farm work.

            And the warehouse is freaking big too it is almost impossible to clean it by oneself.

            But he insists on doing so, and the family is no stranger to his antics, so they simply let him be. Congratulating himself for the great idea, he gets ready to work, making a mental note to not letting anyone come to help.

            Truthfully, it has been bothering him much on how he cannot seem to forget the person on top of the cliff and how he always feels somewhat guilty each and every single time, despite not knowing who the person is. Determined to solve the mystery, and he figures he had too much free time anyways, he set by looking for old stuffs, which he later found out is mostly in the warehouse. Coincidentally, too, he had always wanted to explore the warehouse and all the heirlooms inside, so this is just like killing two birds with one stone.

            Talk about being lucky, though he admits pulling some strings here and there.

            Not that he is telling.

            He opens the big door of the warehouse carefully, not wanting to create much noise; the building is old after all. And the wash of dust that greets him as he steps inside is definitely not a joking matter. Looking at the whole interior now, he might waste the whole summer away cleaning the place. Still, he signed up for it, and he is a tad too responsible to quit before he even started, so he gather his resolve and set up his mind once again, eyes wandering around.

            The gather of books on the shelf, scrolls, and boxes are neatly placed by the walls, making the work simpler as there is no need for him to arrange things up beforehand. As he calculates and plans the work his eyes catches the sight of a black box at the very end of the warehouse, almost hidden even from the collection of brown boxes around it. He eyed it and makes a mental note to definitely check it up; something screams history from it somehow. And although it will mean he will have to remove all the stuffs outside to take it, and make a proper cleaning at the same time as to avoid suspicion from the family, he finds himself does not mind much.

            He figures he have all the time in the world for this anyway.

 

 

\- [When my shadow is covered by the moon,

                                                                               I draw you in my heart, I recite on myself

                                                                                                                                                        Every day, I am fear of life endlessly]-

_There is news of famine and epidemic in the country, and he watches as the people in town crumbles one by one, falling sick, lying down, and dies. Still, he is a cold person, as cold as the fall wind, so he could care less about the situation._

_But it changes when he sees the person coughing, wildly, the body shaking._

            _“You…”_

_The person quickly raises a hand, the other still covering the mouth._

_“I’m fine.”_

_He knows that it is definitely not, but he does not want to voice his concern, as he of all people will not be able to handle it, so he keeps silence, comforting himself as simply a cold or something. He returned home only to hear that his favorite aunt had passed away, and something snapped in his head, as he remembered that the aunt used to cough a lot the past few days, just like the person just now, and his mind screamed, in fear and agony, for he cannot deludes himself anymore, not when it is clear in front of him._

_That the person might…no, will die._

_He cannot afford that._

_But then he remembered what his dear mother once told him, and immediately he heads to the store room of the family, keeping an eye to ensure that nobody saw what he is up to. The room is off-limits after his parents’ death for some reason, and he knows that there are a lot of their stuffs inside, which is understandable, perhaps, since both of the parents are strong, in spiritual sense._

_And unbeknownst to the family, he inherits most of the powers himself, but he is able to control it so well that they thought he is powerless, thus simply letting him be, and even teach him a spell or two occasionally, in which he usually upgrades into something else altogether behind their back._

_Talk about irony._

_But those spells cannot stop the epidemic, he knows that._

_He knows that very well._

_It hurts._

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

\- [Thirst for love, I'm always in hunger

                                                                  I even miss the tip of your fingers

                                                                                                                                 Undermined our interest, love seems like a luxury]-

            Just like his thoughts before he started, he did spend the whole summer away cleaning the warehouse, to the family’s amusement. They keep thinking that he will quit sooner or later, only seeing each day flutters by with him at the warehouse, carefully sorting out all the old stuffs.

 

            Truth to be told, he was amused himself.

 

            But when he remembered all the things he learnt –albeit secretly- from the treasure inside, he can confidently say that it is all worth it. To his pleasant surprise, too, his body also holds on well this time, he was up and about each day, to the delight of the family.

 

            The best thing has to be the black box, though.

 

            The box is surprisingly heavy for its size, which is comparatively smaller compare to others, and now, as he eyes it across the room, he cannot help but twitches, there is definitely something about it, maybe the content is dangerous stuffs or something, for it was sealed with a stronger spell compare to other things inside the warehouse.

 

            It also seems that nobody but him can see it, let alone touch it.

 

            The box has been in his room for awhile now, at the corner by the stacks of books, and it definitely stands out as the only box there, but nobody ever seems to notice its existence there. When he flat-out asked the family about it, they give him a blank stare, and ushers him to sleep earlier that night, the usual pattern whenever they have no idea what he is talking about.

 

            He is used to that much, and he knows that nobody can match his level of power in terms of the supernatural in the family, so he just happily keeps the matter from them, despite some nagging here and there to spill the beans, in which he simply smile as the answer.

 

            What they do not does not hurt them after all, he thinks.

 

            Outside, the sky is clear and the moon is full, the light crawls across the room. He steals a glance at the clock; there are some minutes left to midnight. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply and listening to the constant move of the clock’s arms, which stops sharp at midnight.

 

            He exhales slowly, and stands up, glancing at the box from the corner of one eye as he takes the surroundings around him. A fallen autumn leaf hangs mid-air and the air is still. A flying bird pinned on the sky, like in a picture and it all dawns on him.

 

            That the time has stop, bringing everything into a still of motion, except for him.

 

            And the cherry blossom tree.

 

            He watches as the flower of the tree flies across the sky, even when it is kilometers away here, even at moment like this, and some of the petals even lands on him, gracefully caressing his cheek as it flutter by.

 

            It gives him a mixed feeling for some reason and suddenly he feels so out of place, being the only one there and all, until he hears rustling behind him, or to be more specific, from the direction of the box.

 

            He turns around and-

 

            The sound of glass crash wakes him to a start and he is back in the room, the sun shines down and slowly the door opens, one of the younger boys smiles apologetically for the trouble and he simply smiles, gets up to clear the pieces, it will be dangerous if somebody steps on it after all. He glances at the clock and it is almost noon now.

 

            When he gets back into the room later, the sky is dark again and he has a hard time holding back a sigh, he ignores the urge to look at the clock, knowing time is no longer relevant at the moment.

 

            “Just come out now, will you?”

 

            There is a click and there is a sharp pain in his head before he feels himself falling.

 

 

\- [I need your interest, I need your conversation

                                                                                        I need your hand, I need even small love

                                                                                                                                                                Please light the fuse that's fading away]-

 

 

            _He watches as everything crumbles down around him; more than half of the population in the town had succumbed to the epidemic by now, and the person is getting paler each day, which he thought was not possible before, considering the face is already so white, like the falling snow._

_They said that it was almost a miracle actually, for the person to be able to hold on until winter, but he knows he cannot rely on it, no._

_The chance is still there, for the person to fall, like others, and he cannot risk it._

_He had been studying harder now, when everyone is busy looking for antidote or whatnot, just to keep holding on. He had been creating more and more spells, seeking for something, anything, to save the person. He had even almost been tricked by random ayakashi, who he later exorcised out of rage._

_He had become more and more powerful each day, and the person noticed it._

_“You should stop.”_

_He turns around, facing the person, who is leaning by the tree._

_“This is not doing us any good.”_

_He can feel his eyes widen at that, the body shaking._

_“In fact, I’m somewhat grateful.”_

_Something snapped inside him, and he screamed._

_“NO!”_

\- [Broken from the love of chains, I sing to find the one

                                                                                                  Following the wind and the cloud, I wander the world]-

 

 

            They said that a long, long time ago the country was caught in a famine, and epidemic strikes, taking lives of hundreds of people, and of course the town is not an exception. By the time the epidemic ceased, it is believed that there are barely any people left there. The ones left behind wrote down the tragedy, and the stories passed on as history to the people today. Of course, there is no solid proof on the credentialed of all this stories, as there are different versions of what really happened at that time, but all of them described the epidemic, so at least it was all in the same timeline.

 

            Also, all of them described a cherry blossom tree on the cliff by the sea.

 

            There is no acute explanation on how the tree comes to be as the way it is now, but almost all account said that it happened so suddenly, and the tree is already in full bloom when the epidemic ends and the snow starts to melt away.

 

            But one story, which might as well be the closest to the truth due to the almost vivid detail of description, mentioned a man in the writer’s family, one with an attachment to the tree. The story tells from the writer’s perspective, how one by one the family member died, until the whole town is almost void of people, yet the man is always by the tree throughout the time, the man who the writer describes as somewhat different than the rest of the family. And for some reason, the story ends halfway, and there is no telling what happened after the tree blooms.

 

            The man, who was mentioned in the story, is nameless.

 

            To the rest of the world, that is.

 

 

\- [Powdered snow, in front of us, eternity, too fragilely

                                                                                                Becomes a stain upon rough asphalt]-

 

           

            _They say, be careful what you wish for, for sometimes they often come true._

_He also remembered they say, if you wish with all your heart, it will come true._

_But at that moment, he forgot one more thing._

_He forgot words are the most unbreakable chain men invented._

_“I want you to stay forever!”_

_The person smiled softly, though he can see the sadness in the dark eyes._

_“How foolish.”_

_He at that time has no way of knowing, how selfish those words are._

_For the price used to pay for it, the sacrifice is too much._

_Forever, is not something beautiful, and never is._

\- [Passion of life, such thing as hope, it doesn't exist

                                                                                              I'm breathing simply out of life]-

 

 

            He exhales, putting the book, which is still in good condition despite the passing time, thanks to the strong spell inflicted on it, back into the black box. He had been bedridden for a week before, having been found lying in the room with high fever, and he wake up with a heavy heart and full memory in the head.

 

            He repelled the spell so easily and opened the black box in the midnight, the fall wind blows softly and the moonlight crawls across the room, taking the book and holding it so tight it might break. He steals a glance at the mirror across of him and taking in the brown eyes, light colored hair and the dimple at the left cheek. It is the same as he remembered; his face, whether it is now or centuries ago.

 

            The face that is visible clearly in his memories now, the one he knew he often dreamt about along with the man at the tree since last winter, despite his apparent ability of not remembering them in the morning before, the one from the past.

 

            The one that is actually the man in the legend, called ‘Jungsu’.

 

            The man by the tree is actually called ‘Kibum’.

 

            He remembered everything now, that there is no need to read the diary in his hands.

 

            He remembered everything.

 

            It hurts.

 

           

\- [We can't live at the same time without trivial fights

                                                                                             If I can't be honest, then rapture and sorrow are meaningless]-

 

 

            _By the time he knows it, the person is already a part of the tree, and above him the tree grows magnificently, branches extended away. He watches in horror as the person makes a hasty move, and stops just an arm away from him, the woods and thin branches halts the step._

_And for a moment, there is silence. He is too stunned to speak, tongue-tied and confused; the person’s expression mirrored his own. And that is when he realized that the person is no longer alive, at least not in a normal sense, and it is his fault._

_His legs gives up on him and he falls on the knees, tears streaming down the face, his lips incessantly chattering, ‘I’m sorry, Kibum-ah, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’_

_There is a snap of twig and he twitched, effectively stops his mumbling and he looks up to see Kibum smiling at him, softly, shaking his head._

_“It is okay, Jungsu. It’s okay.”_

_His heart twitched this time, and he can barely stop himself before screaming._

_“HOW CAN THAT BE OKAY?! TELL ME!!”_

_The dark eyes are staring, and the hand reaches out halfway._

_“Because this time, you can fly, Jungsu.”_

_The first petal of flower flies down his cheek and he holds his head up. The tree is blooming, in all its glory and he can see Kibum beaming at him. His wishes did come true, finally, but he lost his heart to feel happy._

_Not when it happened like this._

_No._

_He went back with a heart so heavy he might as well buried it under the iron sea. Wait, maybe he already did, for he cannot feel a thing anymore. Everything is sealed away, in the diary in which he writes down the truth, and placed in the black box he inherited from his father. He wished for the time within the box to stop, so that the book will remain as it is. He had totally forgotten Kibum’s wish for him to be free, and chains himself away, so that he would not forget._

_The regret is too deep; it kills him every time he remembered._

_It happened every single time, over and over again, without fail, without exception._

_No matter how many times he is reborn, the pain never leaves._

_For he always remembers at one point of time, and never forgets._

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

\- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart

                                                                                             Can you share our loneliness?]-

 

 

            The snow falls faster than usual this winter, and before he knows it, the town is already covered by nothing but white. He watches from his window the powdered snow falling, it never seems to stop since the beginning of winter until now, and he glances at the calendar hanging across the room, it is already February.

 

            There is a knock at the window and he turns around, an ayakashi is there, peering inside. Struggling with the heavy blanket he pushes it away from him and walks, albeit slowly towards the window, opening it just enough for them to talk, the cold wind freezes him almost instantly.

 

            “Sorry for the disturbance, Jungsu-shii.”

 

            The ayakashi is wearing a mask, a usual for their kind, with long black hair let loose on the back. He knows they never met before but he does not ask on how it knows his name; apparently most ayakashi knows him well in this town, well enough for his liking.

 

            “It’s fine. What is it?”

 

            He almost winced on how his voice sounded, hoarse and low.

 

            “The snow will let out tonight, and the wind will stop, for tonight.”

 

            He raises a brow at that; does not quite get what is it the ayakashi wants to tell him.

           

            “The tree is calling.”

 

            His heart stills for a moment.

 

            “We think that it is you it is calling.”

 

            He clenched his fist, regret and anger seeps in.

 

            “You do not know that.”

 

            The ayakashi shakes its head, softly.

 

            “The name it called is Jungsu.”

 

            His eyes widen at that.

 

            “There is no mistaking it.”

 

            The ayakashi lifts the head, and although he cannot see the eyes, he knows he is being stared at. The wind is no longer chilling him, and for a moment there is nothing but silence, he cannot even hear his own heartbeat anymore. He closes his eyes, focusing, and indeed, brought by the wind, softly, and slowly, is a name, his own.

 

            _“Jungsu.”_

 

            He does not even realized that he has been crying until he feel a soft, faint brush on the cheek, the ayakashi’s hand extended towards him.

 

            “We like the tree, and the person by it, but we like you too.”

 

            He can almost see a smile by the mask.

 

            “You should go, and see them, tonight.”

 

            He found himself nodding, and the ayakashi takes its leave. He closes the window, and hugs himself on the knees; his tears feel warm against the skin.

 

            True to the ayakashi’s words, the snow stops falling later that night, and the wind is gone, too. He waited until midnight before slowly slipping out of the house, dragging his heavy body forward. Inside his sleeves is the diary, he does not plan on revealing that he remembers, no. He cannot bear the thought of facing the consequences. Not after he ran and turns his back on the person last spring.

 

            It may be justified for he does not remember yet, that time, but he cannot forgive himself just yet. It has been too long, and he does not know what going there will bring to the situation, but for some reason he feels like he can do this, and he, being intuitive as he is, decided to just go with it.

 

            The walk feels shorter now that he has a lot in his mind, for before he knows it he is already at the foot of the cliff. And even with the snow, he can found the right path and climb up; the feeling of déjà vu is no more a stranger to him.

 

            He can feel his eyes brimming with tears once the tree comes to a full view, but he brushes it off as his tired body’s fault, it has been too long since he last walk this far after all, he reasons. He can almost hear his heart screaming ‘liar!’ at him though, resulting in him chuckling to himself a bit.

 

            And that may be a good thing to do, for when he hear the same voice, calling him out, the same eyes staring at him, and the same face standing in front of him, he manages to keep himself together.

 

            And he catches himself smiling, as he walks closer.

 

            It might be because he feels calm; it might be because he knows this is the best; he had not want to admit it before, it might be because they are comfortable, and his heart is so light he barely contain himself, as if nothing had happened, as if centuries had not passed, as if, nothing is ever wrong at the first place, that he manages to says it, after a long random chatter that does not really make sense, but to him, is important enough, because he had missed this.

 

            “I’m sorry, for everything.”

 

            He had meant it, from the very beginning.

 

            “I want you to be free.”

           

            Kibum simply smiles, the sweet smile of his, and nods.

 

            “I know.”

 

            He hands him the diary, and prepare to leave, the wind is blowing again, and the first drop of snow hits his shoulder when he feels rough hands on the arm. He had known from the start that Kibum is no longer human, but even when he is pulled for an awkward hug, he feels warm, and he believes that he does not imagine it in his head.

 

            He also knows that he does not imagine the soft hands on the back, for when he pulled back, Kibum is human enough in his eyes, just like he was years ago.

 

            It hits him then that his wish had come true.

 

            He smiles, so wide, it breaks his face and makes him cry.

 

            He had gone back home with a very tired body, Kibum reasoned because he has used his power more than usual, to his confusion, but accepts the explanation anyways, and passed out before his head hit the pillow.

 

            He wakes up to find himself at the hospital, and two weeks has passed since then. The family worried sick and the doctors out for explanation, but he assures them that he is fine, and leaves the ward the very next day.

 

            Along the way back, though, he cannot ignore the feeling that he has forgotten something, and it snaps inside his head when he sees the sun shining brightly and the steps of spring coming.

 

            That night, before he left, Kibum had whispered at him.

 

            _“You and I, we were one. And I swore I’d stay forever.”_

 

            In soft, thin voice.

 

            _“_ _But they say all good things come to an end._ _”_

 

            He announced the end.

 

            _“Oh so if you believe, say a prayer for me._ _”_

And he smiles, so bright, his heart breaks.

 

           

\- [Powdered snow, this heart that has transcended time is faltering

                                                                                                                       And yet, I want to continue to protect you]-

 

 

            _In all the passing of time, he had forgotten, and remembered, repeating the same cycle over and over again. And throughout the whole moment the tree is there, always, watching._

_Kibum had wished, for this to end, he had wished from the beginning, for him to be free. He knows Jungsu deserved that, deserved it the most, even when the man himself may not know it._

_He was cursed to die, long time ago, at the beginning, before he met Jungsu, who is kind to him, who is strong enough that the curse is already gone before he knew it, when all they do is befriend one another. He owes the man much; he owes him his whole life. That he is willing to accept anything, so that the person may be free._

_Free from the burden of being different, and simply be happy._

_He does not mind waiting this whole time, he had promised him before, when the tree is still nothing but bare and dying, he had promised him, when yet another people hurt him and scarred the fragile heart inside._

_“I’ll be here, with you, always, until the day when nothing can hurt you anymore.”_

_It had been a long time coming, but it is here now._

_“No matter how long it takes, I’ll be waiting for that day.”_

_He had promised, and he had kept it._

_He did._

\- [Where did you go, leaving me here, I do not know

                                                             You left me over there to the place no one knows

                                                                                                                                   I want to leave this behind]-

 

 

            He watches as the whole town, including his family goes to an uproar on the news. It is still quite cold, and there is still a faint trace of snow melts away on the road, yet it does not stop the crowd from moving towards the sea, to where the cliff with the cherry blossom is.

 

            Or rather, was.

 

            It was raining heavily the past few days, one of the worst storms in the history of the town, and as impossible as it be, for the lack of better word, considering the history of the place and all, the cliff crumbles down, succumbed to the nature and buried into the sea.

 

            Bringing down the legendary cherry blossom tree with it, gone, disappear.

 

            At least, scientifically, that is the most acceptable explanation for the situation.

 

            He stands there, from his usual spot every time he is here by the beach, leaning against the abandoned old hut under the now bare shady tree as usual. And indeed, even from a far, the view is different, the part where the cliff was, extended towards the sea is chipped off, and the tree is nowhere in sight anymore.

 

            He can still see it though; the image had been burned inside his mind for centuries after all, the leaves flutters by the wind, the flower petals fly away, dancing by the wind.

 

            Even when he knows it is just inside his head, he can still see it, so clearly.

 

            A hand grasped his, and he snaps from his daydream, looking down to see a group of kids staring intently at him, he recognized them as the ones that helped him before, chuckled when one of them told him to go back if he wants to sleep, even go as far as scolding him for being absent minded, which he had a hard time denying.

 

            He sends them away with a thank you and a sheepish smile, and makes his way to see the old man by the shop, who seems as healthy as ever, to his relief, at the bench in front of the shop, as usual. The man smiles and beckons him over, and points to the empty space beside him, which he nods and accepts the sit with a thank you.

 

            He sense a somewhat déjà vu, sitting here like this, but then he knows it is different, from the way the man stares at him, knowingly.

 

            “So you found your answer, I assume?”

 

            He smiles softly, and nods. He had been here a lot of times before, and the oldest man in town is no stranger to him, still it never fails to surprise him how good the man is in reading him, that sometimes he cannot help but wonder how much of himself has the man discovered, and the thought is somewhat disturbing, to say the least.

 

            He had come here before, when he was still following his guts and instincts blindly -not that he has stop doing so, just that he has make some effort to actually think and stop being so naïve- and found himself lost with the overwhelming feelings and thoughts he felt like he is going to burst, and come for advice, which until today, is still the best decision he ever made so far, in his opinion.

 

            He had come with the image of the dream in his mind, the awkward, bare tree, the person in black with pale skin, the other him and the story of the legend in his mind. He had come hoping for explanation, even when he found it hard to explain himself, and settles with rhetorical questions, which may or may not helping, he does not know, at that time, still he goes for it anyway.

 

            He had forgotten the questions, it does not leave an impact on him much, but he remembers the soft smile grazing the features of the wise man, and how the dark eyes softens in a way he cannot think it could as the words fly about, and tucked inside him.

 

            _“Sometimes there are things that happened because it has to happened, even when it hurts people, even when it defies all the logic in the world, because there is a meaning to it, and to understand the meaning may be impossible to everyone, but if we can make an effort to do so…”_

 

            He can never forget the look, the way the man stares at him right in the eyes.

 

            _“…that in itself has already give it a meaning, don’t you think so?”_

He had agreed that time, and he still is.

 

            “I am sure that the tree is happy, Jungsu-shii.”

 

            Maybe this is the best after all, and looking back, it is almost like a sign that everything ends. For him to retain the face, and holds the same name, Jungsu, it is like going back that time, where everything begins, to put an end to it.

 

            He remembered the soft smile of the person, and he knows that Kibum is always a wise person, he must have foreseen this somehow, he must be intended for him to be free, from the very beginning, that must be why he never regrets caught the epidemic, and grateful, for it.

 

            He found the meaning, and while he cannot say for sure that he is right, he knows that it is not of importance anymore. Not when he can finally come to terms with it, after all this time.

 

            He smiles, holding his head high, and stares at the blue sky.

 

            He is letting go.

 

            It does not stop a tear from falling down, though.

 

 

\- [Powdered snow, if you paled me white to the heart

                                                                                                 You would wrap around our loneliness and send it back into the sky]-

 

 

            _He wakes up to the sound of hushed whisper and soft knocking on the window, which is getting louder and faster by each passing second, indicating the lack of patience by whoever intends to call him. He rubs his sleepy eyes and peeks at the window, where a man is standing, clad in traditional clothing and for some reason looks exactly like Kibum, except that while the person is all black, this man is all white, and he knows better than to ignore him,  so he opens the window, slowly, and trying hard to compose himself._

_“Pardon the intrusion, but I came delivering a will, for you.”_

_He simply nods, though he can feel his heart stricken, pounding softly._         

_“I shall receive it, then.”_

_The man smile softly as he takes the book, the very one he left to Kibum before._

_“Thank you.”_

_He nods, and somehow, he cannot help himself but ask._

_“You…you are the tree, right?”_

_The man simply nods._

_“And the person- Kibum-shii is your shadow all along, isn’t it?”_

_The man looks down, avoiding his gaze._

_“He became my shadow.”_

_There is a crack in the whispered voice, soft, but still there._

_“I wished that I can live, and bloom.”_

_The clothes flutter about, like leaves._

_“We were foolish, aren’t we?”_

_The wind blows and the end of the sleeves torn into flowers, fly away._

_“He knows, from the start, who you really are.”_

_He can feel his eyes widen at that._

_“The time you were up by the cliff, that spring, he already knew.”_

_The man smiles, softly._

_“For coming and meet him, after all this time, thank you.”_

_He watches as the man dissipates and dissolves, the flowers flew to the sky._

_Clutching the book, he opens it slowly, and notices the small flower peak out from the back pages. Trembling, his fingers flip it open with ease, and there is a writing that was not there before._

_He can see this coming, really. And he, of all people, should be glad, but still, this long feeling; it has been with him for so long already._

_“Jungsu-shii...”_

_No matter how much time passes, still, it hurts all the same._

_“…thank you, for everything…”_

_It hurts, so much._

_“…and…”_

_That he cannot help but cry._

 

 

\- [The season in which the powdered snow dances always passes by

                                                                   Even if I’m lost in a crowd I can see the same sky

                                                                                                                 Even though I'm chilled as if I'm being blown by the wind]-

 

 

            There was a cherry blossom tree at the top of the cliff by the sea. The tree was said to be the largest tree in the town, and the age of the tree might be even older than the town itself, which has been around since more than 200 years ago. To see the tree, people usually went down the beach, and if the day was clear and not foggy at the cliff, the tree was visible for the entire world to see; the big, strong trunk, long branches with leaves fluttered by, and the blooming pink flowers whose petals falls down every so often, swept by the wind. The scenery was gorgeous, magnificent even; regardless of from what angle do you see it. The tree had always been the symbol of the town and it is likely to stay that way. It is both admired and feared by the townspeople after all.

 

            For the tree, since one can remember, never seemed to stop blooming its flower.

 

            They said that it was timeless, really.

 

            Yet the past is fleeting.

 

            Feelings are fleeting.

 

            Like the memories in quiet cold decay.

 

            The last of the powdered snow leaves no acquaintance.

 

            Except for maybe, just maybe, a soft, whispered farewell.

 

            _“…goodbye.”_

 

*******

 

 

_Will the moon understand my loneliness?_  
 _Wonder if the stars understand my scars_  
 _Buried in affliction, I sing this song_  
 _Graved in loneliness; I call out your name_

 


End file.
